


cause you've made a mess of everything (and i'm not listening)

by sassysatan



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boy Band, Hate to Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 15:51:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4966963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassysatan/pseuds/sassysatan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Harry knows they’re going to talk about him when he’s out of earshot. He knows he just looked like a dick. He knows he was very obviously not his friendly self for one person in particular. He knows he’s making an enemy he didn’t really need. He knows Niall will ask him about it. He knows that this is gonna bite him in the arse later, that he’s supposed to be the bigger person, that he should probably apologize before it’s too late. </p><p>But Louis knows damn well that he deserved it."</p><p>Harry is in a boy band. Louis is in a boy band. Harry hates Louis. ~9k</p>
            </blockquote>





	cause you've made a mess of everything (and i'm not listening)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [queenwho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenwho/gifts).



> Sorry this took so long! I had a lot of writers' block and it didn't turn out quite the way I wanted it to. Hope you still like it!  
> tumblr: larrystylindads  
> title from all time low's "heroes"

The first time Harry hears of Louis Tomlinson, it’s in the sensational Bizarre section of _The Sun_ newspaper. He grabs the copy for free (There’s no way in hell he would pay 40p for the thing.) at Heathrow after landing in London with Niall and Liam for the BRIT Awards. He skims it as they’re packed into a black van and transported to the O2 Arena, chuckling at ridiculous headlines like “Blair Spent £15,000 on Brazilian Waxes as PM” and “‘My Daughter Ate Her Pet Rabbit!’” and occasionally showing them to the boys.

Eventually, he makes it to the celebrity news section, about to flip past it until he notices his picture along the side of the page, along with another guy about his age who he does not recognize. Ever since he messed up his solo on NHL’s _Red or Black_ performance and then nearly had a mental breakdown scrolling through comments and articles about it, everyone has been telling him to avoid reading about himself on any form of media. But he can’t help wanting to find out who this other guy is. Purely out of curiosity, of course. Absolutely nothing to do with the boy’s sharp cheekbones or striking blue eyes.

_“Louis Zap!s Harry”_

__

_With the BRIT Awards airing tonight on ITV, hundreds of the UK’s biggest stars, including Zap!’s Louis Tomlinson, are headed to the O2 Arena for the show. Zap! has been working hard writing and recording for their debut album, but are taking the time to attend and present the award for Best International Album. They also managed to stop by Yahoo UK for an interview, where they were asked if they were excited to meet other boy bands at the BRITs. It was then that Louis commented, “Not really. I don’t think our vibes will mesh very well. We’re sorta laid back and messy, and the other bands out there right now seem a lot more, I don’t know, uptight I guess. Especially Harry [Styles] from NHL. Have you seen the way he stands? Too proper! And he wears blazers all the time. It’s so weird.”_

__

_Ouch! Harry and the rest of NHL will also be attending the awards, nominated for Best British Breakthrough Act. Let’s hope these two don’t see each other at the afterparty. Until then, tune in at 8 p.m. for what’s sure to be a spectacular evening._

Harry rolls his eyes, closes the paper and tucks it into the pocket on the back of the seat in front of him. He sits back and crosses his arms, looking out the window as they drive through East London. He slowly finds himself, inexplicably, growing more and more annoyed. Who does this guy think he is, anyway? He’s never met this Louis guy before, never even heard of Zap! in his life. What gives Louis the right to judge him before they’ve said a word to each other? Does Harry really come off as uptight? Aren’t blazers in style right now?

Niall taps Harry on the shoulder, derailing his train of thought, “We’re here,” he informs him. They’re ushered out of the car and to hair and makeup, where Lou transforms his messy head of curls into, well, a slightly fluffier messy head of curls. They chat as she applies his foundation and lipstick. He hated all of the makeup at first, how sticky it felt on his skin. He’s grown used to it now, and does appreciate the effect it produces. It’s hard to keep his skin clear and his eyes bag-free when he’s so stressed out all the time.

“Hey Lou, you know what Caroline’s got me wearing tonight?” Harry asks, talking about anything and everything to try and get his mind off that stupid article.

“Umm...I think you’re in a blue blazer?” she replies.

Of course. He hopes it doesn’t burn that Louis guy’s eyes at the show.

# # #

The awards were pretty cool. Harry hasn’t yet grown tired of being around a bunch of famous musicians, even if he doesn’t get a chance to speak to them much. They won their award, which was kind of insane. He was sure they were going to lose. They were nominated next to Adele and Ed Sheeran for chrissakes. Also, he was pretty drunk the whole time, which is always a bonus. He wasn’t even paying attention when Louis and his band were presenting. Or at least, he doesn’t really remember it.

By the time they’ve left the press room, he’s still fairly intoxicated (He hopes the media didn’t notice.), so when Niall mentions going to Lady Gaga’s afterparty, he’s all for it, despite the fact that they have a flight at 7 a.m. the next morning. When they get to the party, it’s already in full swing. The decorations look like they came from the set of a Halloween horror movie even though it’s the middle of February, but he shouldn’t have expected anything less from Mother Monster. He’s not sure if she even attended the awards, but he’s literally at a Lady Gaga party, so it’s not like he’s got a right to complain.

Harry spends the first hour sobering up and chatting to the likes of Paloma Faith, Emeli Sande, Bruno Mars, and Bon Iver, which is kind of unreal. In the middle of a conversation about hats with Aloe Blacc, he spots Niall in his peripheral vision. He’s talking to a guy with feathery brown hair and a really nice bum. The guy makes room for his friend who just walked over and throws an arm around his shoulder, and now Harry can see his face. And his piercing blue eyes. With his luck, he really shouldn’t be surprised.

He bids Aloe farewell and walks closer to the group. He just kinda stares at them for a few minutes, intrigued. Niall doesn’t know what Louis said about him, but he still feels a bit betrayed somehow. The alcohol left in his bloodstream gives him the urge to go over there and get Niall away. So that’s what he does.

“Hey Harry, what’s up?” Niall greets Harry excitedly when he sees him coming, mussing up his hair. He smells strongly like Jack and Guinness. It fits him, though. And it’s not like Harry doesn’t smell like...whatever he drank. He can’t remember that well.

“Just wanted to talk, is all,” Harry gives him a smile that probably comes off as a grimace, not daring to glance at the other two. He’s beginning to regret this decision.

“Cool! This is Louis and Aiden from Zap!.” he holds up a finger, “With an exclamation point. That’s important. They’re another boy band. They presented...uhhh...I forget which award,”

“International album,” Harry supplies, “I’ve, erm, I’ve read about you,” The second sentence wasn’t meant to come out, and it certainly wasn’t meant to sound so bitter, but his filter’s been suppressed by alcohol. Niall side eyes him, clearly picking up his tone, but the other two either don’t realize or politely ignore it.

“Good to meet you,” Aiden holds out his hand to shake and Harry obliges. Then, Louis holds out his hand. Harry looks him in the eye for the very first time. After he takes a second to process the azure of his irises, he glances down at his huge grin. It almost looks genuine, the way his full set of white teeth show and his eyes crinkle at the sides. But Harry remembers what he read and knows it’s fake fake fake _fake_ and it almost makes him nauseous, unless it’s just what he drank. He purses his lips and reluctantly takes his hand.

“Blazer’s sick, mate,” Louis comments, and Harry rolls his eyes. They are not mates, and he is so done with this.

“Think I’m gonna head home. See ya in a few hours,” Harry tells Niall, then turns to leave. He hears the three of them quietly say goodbye. Harry knows they’re going to talk about him when he’s out of earshot. He knows he just looked like a dick. He knows he was very obviously not his friendly self for one person in particular. He knows he’s making an enemy he didn’t really need. He knows Niall will ask him about it. He knows that this is gonna bite him in the arse later, that he’s supposed to be the bigger person, that he should probably apologize before it’s too late.

But Louis knows damn well that he deserved it.

# # #

Harry doesn’t see Louis in person again for a few months, but the universe seems intent on making sure he doesn’t forget him. He sees his face on the front of tabloids, in commercials for their new album, on billboards. He hears his name on the radio when his band’s new single is (over)played. To top it all off, Niall has been texting Louis and Aiden (and now Zayn, the third member) ever since the afterparty and they’ve been hanging out whenever they’re all in London or L.A. or New York. Liam’s tagged along a few times, and has taken a particular liking to Zayn. They like the same music, and now Liam is teaching Zayn how to dance. Harry doesn’t mind that too much. Liam’s a good judge of character, and he hasn’t been talking to Louis much yet.

He stumbles upon all sorts of terrible headlines about Louis (by accident...it’s not like he googles Louis’ name in his spare time or anything), and they only reinforce his distaste for him. He’s read that Louis once tweeted his girlfriend, Eleanor, to “get back in the kitchen”. He also rolled up to her graduation from the University of Manchester in sweatpants and a snapback. What a classy guy.

There was also the video that leaked of Louis and Zayn smoking weed. Harry doesn’t judge him for that, of course. He can’t say he hasn’t experimented. But taking video of it and then storing it somewhere clearly insecure wasn’t the brightest idea. Neither was dropping a racial slur while being taped. He just hopes that hasn’t inspired any of his younger fans to roll up their first joint.

The worst thing, though, what really sets Harry off, is what a certain section of his fans call “Bullshit Day”. Apparently, there’s a pretty big chunk of the Zap! fanbase who think Louis and Aiden are in a relationship based on the way they act around each other. They call it “Louden Tomlinshaw”. Louis evidently doesn’t like this idea, and went to Twitter, deeming Louden “the biggest load of bullshit [he’s] ever heard”. And he calls himself laid back.

Of course, that’s not why Harry is angry about it. He’s pissed because, in subsequent tweets, he implied that Louden shippers weren’t real fans. What’s the point of that? Like, people ship guys in bands all the time. Harry’s been shipped with Liam and Niall. He’s seen plenty of fanfiction and manips about that. Some of the writers and artists are wicked talented, even if the subject matter makes him a little uncomfortable. He’s sure people ship Louis with Zayn as well. Not only is it weird that he only denied Tomlinshaw, but it’s also blatantly homophobic. He’s passed the message on to, now millions of fans, that being gay or looking for LGBT+ representation in the media is wrong.

Okay, so maybe he read that on a Louden blog on Tumblr after the fact, but he definitely agrees with it.

The universe’s tour de force in keeping Louis in his mind, however, is the fact that they’re both performing at Capital’s Summertime Ball. If they see each other again, he may have to bite his tongue _off_ in order to keep quiet.

Taylor has to pry Harry’s white-knuckled left hand out of the fist it’s currently in to hold it as they get out of the car and walk down the red carpet. She doesn’t say anything about how tense he is. It’s not part of her job, and she doesn’t particularly want to do this either. NHL’s management set him up with her for publicity. She’s way bigger than NHL in America, and NHL is way bigger than her in Europe, so it’s a win-win situation, even if they have to waste some precious free time alone together...along with dozens of photographers.

It’s fine, though. Taylor’s a sweet girl, and they have a lot in common. They like some of the same music, baking, spending time with family, and performing. And they both have to deal with every tabloid constantly calling them whores. But she’s just not his type.

Zap! opens the show. Harry doesn’t want to watch. He knows it’ll only bug him, yet he can’t take his eyes off of them. He stares from backstage, glaring, his nails digging into his palms, his lips pulled into a tight line. Aiden starts off the first song, their second single (he thinks), an unusual pop punk R&B hybrid. His voice sounds full and strong, and the fans scream when he opens his mouth. Harry isn’t really paying attention. He keeps his eyes locked on Louis, who looks sort of dazed. Maybe he had a joint to take the edge off, Harry thinks bitterly. He watches as Louis takes a deep breath, his left hand fiddling with his braces (And he had the nerve to criticize Harry’s style...), a nervous expression on his face as Aiden finishes his verse. He starts the chorus shyly, nearly drowned out by the fans’ cheering. Louis’ eyes sparkle, looking completely touched. He moves his left hand to his stomach, beaming, and starts belting it out, an effortlessly pure tone. Even Harry finds himself charmed, unable to suppress the grin creeping onto his face.

That is, until Niall comes up behind him and remarks, “He’s good, innit?” Harry frowns, remembering why he started watching in the first place.

“He’s all right,” Harry replies through his teeth. They both watch as the bridge comes around, and Zayn is rapping. Louis and Aiden stand with their backs on either side of him, arms folded and heads nodding. It’s corny, but the crowd goes nuts. The rhymes are devastatingly clever. When the final chorus begins, everyone sings along, and it’s hard to actually hear the band. Harry has never seen such an engaged crowd, and to be honest, he’s pretty jealous.

For their next song, they slow it down. Louis sits down at a piano and plays the opening chords of “Look After You” by The Fray. Louis sings the first chorus alone, and then all three harmonize for the rest of them. The crowd takes out their phones and holds them up and a sea of stars dance throughout the stadium. Louis stops playing right before the last chorus, sighing in amazement at the tens of thousands in front of him before standing up to take a picture with his phone.

They sing their first single last, and it goes much like the first. Screaming crowd, decent vocals, “awed” Louis (Harry bets it's fake, bets everything about him is fake. Those probably aren’t even his real cheekbones.). It’s a bit poppier, though, so during the interlude between the second chorus and the bridge, Zap! does the unexpected.

They dance.

And somehow, it’s not totally lame. It’s not the stereotypical boy band point at you (because you, the dedicated fangirl, are the one for them) and nod, jump and point in the air (to God, because they are religiously devoted and therefore likely to commit in a relationship with you, the dedicated fangirl), now pose for the camera kinda thing. There are stomps and headbangs and hip thrusts. Zayn breakdances (Damn, that guy is talented.). It’s just this cool, hip hop freestyle routine. And no one messes up.

After the song finishes, the guys bow and blow kisses. Louis spends an extra few seconds staring at the crowd, grinning his face off, before bounding off the stage with the others. Harry wants to gag. The whole overwhelmed and grateful act is working for now, but people are gonna catch on how contrived it is pretty quickly.

Zap! are on the other side of backstage now, but just to be safe, Harry goes to the toilets after a few minutes to avoid them. Of course, when he gets in there, Louis is already at the urinal closest to the wall having a wee. And the urinal furthest from Louis is broken. And there are only three urinals. And he’s been in there three seconds too long to make a slick escape.

Harry has visions of Batman and the Joker, Al Capone and Bugs Moran, Sherlock and Moriarty, Tom and Jerry standing next to each other at the urinals, and wonders briefly if they would feel the same awkwardness as he does now. He holds his breath, and hopes to God Louis doesn’t so much as glance at him. He whips it out and wills his piss to leave him as fast as humanly possible. As soon as the stream stops, he attempts to turn away from the urinal quickly as he tucks himself back into his boxers. A disastrous miscalculation.

There is now piss on the wall, piss on the floor, piss on Louis Tomlinson’s red trousers, and piss on Harry Styles’ name.

He finally looks at Louis, who had just zipped his fly, his mouth now hanging open, his shoulders now hunched. Louis slowly turns to Harry. He slowly registers that Harry has literally just pissed on him, and his lips close into a scowl. He stays silent for about ten infinite seconds, letting the wave of humiliation wash over Harry.

“Suppose this isn’t the first time you’ve had trouble controlling your dick,” Louis finally comments venomously. Harry stands there, still processing how that actually happened, as Louis quickly washes his hands and leaves. The closing of the door breaks Harry out of his trauma-induced trance, and he rushes to grab some paper towels and clean the mess before anyone else walks in. He is shocked and embarrassed and disgusted with himself. But above all that, he is furious. How can Louis say Harry can’t control his dick? Every girl Harry has been pictured with was a friend or someone he needed to be seen with for PR, that’s pretty obvious to most people in the industry. And even if he was dating those women, Louis has no right to talk with the way he treats Eleanor.

Harry doesn’t particularly want to have an aneurysm right there in the backstage toilets, so he tries to get his mind off of Louis. He figures he should focus on his performance, which is kind of in less than two hours. And then, it clicks.

NHL has to outperform Zap!. He can redeem himself, his dignity, if they can get a better reaction from the crowd than Zap! did. The question is, how? Niall will be playing guitar, and he can ask him to do some extra riffs or something. He knows Liam can beatbox, so he can ask Liam to incorporate that into some of the more upbeat songs. But what can he do?

He tries to ask Niall, but he doesn’t let him get to that point.

“Hold on, mate. Why are you so caught up on doing better than Zap!? Just because we’re both,” he puts up air quotes, “‘boy bands’ doesn’t mean we have to compare ourselves to them. We both play different music and we’re both successful. Plenty of room in the business for both of us. No need for competition. You sound like Simon Cowell.”

“This isn’t about money. It’s just about…” Harry pauses to think of an excuse, “being the best we can be.”

“Is it?” Niall raises one eyebrow, “Or is this about a certain someone?”

“Don’t talk about him like that,” Harry warns, “Makes it sound like I can actually tolerate him.”

“Why are you so obsessed with him?” Niall questions.

“I am not obsessed!” Harry denies, a few decibels too high. He notices a few stares, and lowers his volume, “I just want to beat him.”

“Then perform better,” Niall shrugs.

“Come on, Niall! Please?” Harry begs. Niall gives him a pitying look, then rolls his eyes.

“Fine,” he sighs, “I’ll try and do some fancy guitar tricks or whatever. Maybe we can do that whole leaning back to back thing like they do at all the classic rock shows.”

“Yes!” Harry shouts, pumping his fists in the air, before receiving some more quizzical glances. He puts his arms down, “Cheers” he adds meekly before running off to find Liam.

Liam is a bit more reluctant to change anything last minute without telling anyone in charge, but thankfully, agrees without questioning Harry on his reasoning.

Harry finally decides that, as his contribution to the Better NHL™, he will amp up his stage presence. He’ll wave more, move more, smile more, improvise more, dance more, be more. More than Louis could ever dream.

Before he knows it, it’s time for Better NHL™’s set. They perform their singles and a few album tracks that they know fans like. They throw in a cover of “Jenny Don’t Be Hasty” to test the crowd reaction and see if they should perform it on tour. Not everyone knows all the words, but they seem to enjoy the sound, especially when Niall adds the riffs. The crowd goes nuts when Harry and Niall lean back to back against each other. Maybe Harry should learn bass or something.

Liam does his part beatboxing during the interludes for their faster songs. He also tries it during a few of Niall and Harry’s solos, when the timing is just right. Liam has a knack for that kinda thing. He changes his pitches more than usual as well, adding a spectacular high note during the slowest song they play.

As for Harry, well, he’s trying. He’s got crowd interaction down. It’s so entertaining and exciting to watch each fan he makes eye contact with, gives a thumbs up to, and waves at promptly freak out and tell everyone around them what just happened, whether they know each other or not. The calmer ones actually succeed in communicating with him. He mouthed to one fan that he liked their sign (It was the baby picture of Liam in a cowboy hat. A true classic.) and told a father in a polo shirt, clearly dragged to the show unwillingly by his daughter, to keep his chin up. He also manages a few note changes. He’s pretty new at it and isn’t sure what sounds right, but the audience seems to respond positively to any pitch alterations, concordant or not.

The problem is the movement. With Niall busy playing his guitar and Liam comfortable delivering killer vocals and strolling along the stage, Harry feels a bit awkward being the only one dancing. He starts off with moves he’s done before, like his old-fashioned shoulder shake (which he didn’t even realize people noticed until he saw a masterpost of it on Tumblr) and a couple hip thrusts (He has to use them sparingly. His ears legitimately hurt after the screaming from the first one.) before trying out new ones. He whips his hair back and forth. He drops down to his knees. During their second single, which is pretty rock and roll if he should say so himself, he does this weird sort of air punch thing during some heavy guitar chords, and judging by the screams, it must look somewhat cool. So he does it again. Then he does it in another direction. Then he does it on one foot.

Then he falls.

It’s not like Harry hasn’t fallen onstage before. He’s always had the balance of a newborn baby fawn. But he’s never fallen this comically. Once he’d realized he was about to do down, he kicked his leg out in an attempt to regain equilibrium. So essentially, it looked like he fell down doing the can can. He’ll have to look up the videos which will no doubt be all over the fandom later that night. Niall will probably show them to him before he has a chance to.

He plays it a little safer for the rest of the set, sticking to bipedal dance moves. Harry makes sure to spend a little more time with the audience after they finish singing. Seems like they had fun despite the fact that Harry made a fool of himself. Or perhaps because of it.

Surprisingly enough, while Harry is in the car riding home, Liam is the first one to message him a link to a video of his fall, writing,

_anyone can fall from grace takes a true man to fall with grace hope ur not 2 embarasseddd_

The texts come pouring in after that, and Harry figures it’s time to check what the fans are saying. He sees he’s trending #10 in the UK, but when he clicks the link, he doesn’t make it past the first top tweet.

Louis Tomlinson @Louis_Tomlinson 11m

@Harry_Styles wow 2 spills in 1 day be careful next time!!!

bit.ly/dhfm14

Harry doesn’t tweet back. He doesn't limit himself to 140 characters for this. He takes out his leather journal and a pen, takes a deep breath, and writes.

# # #

Three months later, NHL performs what once was Harry’s harsh and hurried scrawl (He usually has excellent handwriting, but his hand was just about as out of control as his mind was that night.) at the VMAs. It’s the first single off their second album. Number 1 on iTunes in 19 countries the day it was released (Although it was leaked a week prior to that.). Harry stares directly at Louis the entire time as he sings.

Harry grins somewhat maniacally as he watches Louis’ face shift from annoyance to curiosity to shock to rage within three minutes and thirty-two seconds. It’s a wonderful sight. That and, Harry’s probably had a few too many as well. Maybe he should stop drinking at awards shows.

When they’re finished, Harry decides to add the piece de resistance to this performance. He taps his microphone to make sure it’s still on and announces, “I’d like to dedicate that song to my muse, Louis Tomlinson,” he drawls. The collective gasp from the crowd is audible. He considers dropping the mic, but decides not to risk breaking it and gently lays it on the floor. He begins to stroll offstage, blowing kisses as he goes, until Niall and Liam take both of his arms and drag him there quickly.

“Not cool, man,” Niall comments as soon as they’re off.

“Agreed,” Liam supplies.

“What?” Harry asks defensively.

“The dedication!” Niall smacks him on the shoulder.

“What about it?” Harry isn’t quite sober enough to know why that was wrong.

“You can’t just name names like that,” Liam explains, “Like, it’s totally cool to write about your feelings and whatever. You get the best songs that way. I mean, the fans love this one. But any beef you have with Louis is between the two of you. It’s private. The world doesn’t need to know,” he pauses thoughtfully before adding, “And if you thought that comment made Louis look bad, think again. You just made yourself out to be an arse. Congrats.”

“You guys’re overreacting. It was just teasing, a joke! I doubt anyone took it seriously anyway,” Harry brushes off their comments.

“What the fuck was that?” Louis’ Yorkshire accent is especially thick, so he’s either pissed, or pissed off. By the look in his eyes, Harry guesses probably both.

“Ummmm,” Harry is at a loss for words. He didn’t plan for this. Or anything, to be honest. He needs another drink.

“What was the point of…?” Louis trails off, shaking his head in a mix of fury and confusion, “Like, why did you do that? Why did everyone in the goddamn world have to know that you hate me?”

“That’s what we’ve been trying to tell him,” Liam adds.

“Why do you even hate me, by the way?” Louis asks, “Look, I’m sorry about the thing in the bathroom, all right? It was a rude joke. And the tweet as well. But like, even before that, even when we first met, you had this bad attitude about me, and I’ve been kinda annoyed with you ever since because I can’t figure out why. What was up with that? We’d hardly spoken to each other!”

“Well, there’s plenty of reasons to hate you, Louis,” Harry smiles smugly, glad to finally be given the opportunity to call Louis out and release some of his pent-up anger, “You treat your girlfriend like shit, you smoke cigarettes and weed in front of your young fans, and you encouraged your fans to be homophobic. But if you’re looking for something personal, how about when you said I was too uptight in an interview with Yahoo UK before you even met me?”

Louis’ mouth drops open. He looks to Niall and Liam with an expression that says, “Are you hearing this shit?”. Then he stares at Harry, waiting.

“What?” Harry asks after a few seconds.

“I’m waiting for the punchline,” Louis crosses his arms. Harry furrows his brow, “Oh god, you’re serious. Are you really that naive?”

“What?!”

“Have you never had an embarrassing or incriminating video get out to the public? Maybe like that video of you falling onstage or saying ‘pussy’ on national television, perhaps? Are you always the perfect role model? Is every tweet you send out 100% yours? Do you actually feel the need to promote fucking Pokemon to your millions of followers? Do you believe everything you read in the tabloids? Better yet, do you believe everything they’ve written about you? Have you actually slept with 410 women in a year? Is the Harry Styles I read about in The Sun last week really you? If so, then you know what, Harry? I hate you, too.” With that, Louis turns and stalks away. Harry stands there, silent and dumbfounded. Louis looks back over his shoulder and adds, “By the way, I’ve never even fucking interviewed with Yahoo, you prick.” Harry remains frozen for a few more seconds.

“Why didn’t you tell us you hated Louis because of the things you’ve read about him in the tabloids?” Liam asks quietly, like a disappointed mother who’s trying not to yell.

“You do realize the tabloids have pronounced me dead at least five times, right?” Niall comments, “You done fucked up, mate,” he pats Harry on the back before leaving with Liam to mingle with others backstage.

Harry’s probably standing there for at least five minutes, like a tree in the middle of a woodland pathway, workers and celebrities brushing past him like hikers as he attempts to regain control of his thoughts.

He goes over the facts in his head. Louis did not interview with Yahoo. That quote wasn’t real. _The Sun_ is full of shit. Harry was cold towards Louis when they met for no good reason. Louis suggested that the weed video was never meant to get out, and it’s not like Harry’s record is completely clean either. He implied that he didn’t write the “Bullshit tweet.” He performs well and with a smile. In the toilets, Louis was rude because Harry was a jerk to him from the start and then peed on him. Same with the tweet. Louis apologized anyway. Harry wrote an entire hate song about Louis without having spoken with him for more than a minute in his life. And Harry is, indeed, a prick.

If he’s a tree, someone should chop him down right about now.

The only question is, why was that article published? Why would someone make it seem like Louis hated Harry in the first place? Harry breaks out of his trance, walks over to a wall, and sits down with his back against it. He looks up the infamous article on his phone and finds the author. His name is Dan Wootton. After a bit of research, he finds his phone number. Still a bit impulsive from the shots he’s had, he dials the number. Dan (presumably) picks up after four rings.

“Hello? Who is this?” a gruff voice speaks over the line.

“This is Harry Styles,” There’s a moment of silence, then a chuckle.

“Yeah, right. Very funny. Who is it really?”

“It’s Harry! I promise!” he protests.

“Is this another prank call? ‘Cause it’s almost 3 a.m. here and I don’t feel like dealing with this right now,”

“I swear it’s me! I can prove it! I’m at the VMAs right now and,” Harry looks around for familiar faces, “Katy Perry just walked by. Katy say hi to Dan!” Harry holds up the phone to her, and she timidly bends down and does as she’s told. Dan seems to say something to her, then she rolls her eyes and starts singing “Firework”. She listens for a few seconds, then tells Harry that Dan wants him back on the phone, “Thanks Katy!” Harry shouts after her as she walks away.

“Well, at the very least that was a fantastic impression, so for the benefit of the doubt and the sake of time, I’ll pretend you’re actually Harry Styles. So why the hell are you calling me during the VMAs?”

“I have a question,” Harry clears his throat in an attempt to be professional. This is a journalist, after all, “In February, you wrote an article about a Yahoo interview with Louis Tomlinson during which he allegedly claimed that I was ‘uptight’ and then insulted my blazers. Can you explain why you wrote that article?” Dan’s silent for a few seconds.

“Uhhhh,” he laughs nervously, “That’s awfully specific,”

“I don’t have time for games, Dan, and neither do you,” Harry reminds him.

“Okay, you mean business. So you know how your people wanted to try staging a boy band feud between NHL and Zap!?” No. Harry does not know about this. But he does know that Dan could get in trouble for giving this information out if he wasn’t meant to know, and he’s not about to scare him away. He can save his anger for later.

“Of course,” he lies through his teeth.

“Well, _The Sun_ agreed to help. It didn’t get much of anywhere because none of the other papers really picked it up. Shame, really. It could’ve been the boy band fight of the decade. N*SYNC vs. Backstreet Boys 2.0. Tons of publicity.”

“Yeah, what a tragedy,” Harry agrees flippantly, “Thanks, Dan. Enjoy the rest of your night. Bye!” Harry hangs up. How could he have been so wrong? He wants to call his PR team and confront them about the lack of communication, and he’s sure they’ll be calling him any minute now about the dedication, but his main priority right now is Louis. He has no idea where he went, if he’ll even be willing to speak with him, what he should even say. But he has to do something. He finds Niall chatting with Demi Lovato and asks to use his phone. Niall, fairly intoxicated at this point, agrees. He steps outside and finds Louis in his contacts (Well, it’s actually listed as “¡Tommo !Legend!”, but Harry has heard Niall use that nickname often enough.) and dials the number. Louis, none the wiser, answers after a couple rings.

“Sup, Nialler?” he slurs. If he wasn’t drunk when they talked before, he is now. From the sound of bass beats in the background, he must already be at an afterparty. To be fair, so would Harry, but they were nominated for Best New Artist, and that award hasn’t been presented yet. Now that he thinks about it, he should really get back to his seat. And maybe he and Niall should be less drunk.

“This is Harry,”

“Oh. Well what the fuck do you want?” Louis sounds more tired and irritated than cross at this point.

“I want to talk to you. And apologize. Do you want to go out for coffee tomorrow?” Harry asks meekly.

“And why they fuck would I go out to coffee with you?” Harry imagines Louis cocking his hip and crossing one arm across the line. He has to make this sound better.

“So you can feel self-righteous and call me out for any other shitty things I’ve done? And you get a free coffee...or twelve. I really don’t mind.” Harry explains. Louis hums, presumably thinking.

“I do love feeling self-righteous...but can we make it twelve free teas instead?” Louis negotiates.

“‘Course,” Harry thanks God that Louis is not an angry drunk.

“Deal. But I’m holding you to the tea. If I don’t drink twelve tomorrow morning, I’m getting a gift card,” Harry chuckles.

“Sure, yeah. So just...meet me at Alfred Coffee & Kitchen. Erm...10 a.m.,” Louis sucks in a breath.

“Oooh that’s a bit early. I’ll most definitely be hungover. Can we make it 11?”

“We absolutely can,” Louis giggles, and Harry is a bit endeared, “Thanks a lot, man,”

“Sure thing. See you tomorrow, fuckwad,” They’re both laughing now.

“Tomorrow,” Harry confirms, then hangs up. He finds himself smiling uncontrollably. He’s never been a particularly hateful person, so it’s nice to be able to stop. Harry assumes from that conversation that he’ll probably be easily forgiven. Maybe they could even be friends. Niall interrupts his thoughts.

“I need my phone back, mate. Also, I think they’re about to present the award, so we should probably sit back down,” Niall advises.

“Yeah, good call,” Harry nods. Niall eyes him quizzically.

“What are you so happy about?” Niall interrogates, before realization dawns on him, “Who were you just on the phone with?”

“No one!” Harry replies instinctively.

“You know I can easily look at my call history,” Niall reminds him.

“Fine, it was Louis,” Harry wills the heat rising in his face to go away. Hopefully he can pass it off to being drunk. Why is he like this anyway? Two hours ago, he absolutely loathed the guy. Now, they’re hardly acquaintances, and Harry can’t wipe the grin off his face, “I’m meeting him for coffee tomorrow morning to talk,”

“Oh, are you guys making up? That’s great!” Niall congratulates him, “He really is a great guy, you know. I really didn’t understand why you guys were at odds. When I was getting to know him, I kept thinking how great you guys would be together,”

“Together? Like, together, together?” Harry knows he sounds like he’s twelve years-old but, to be fair, this situation is escalating quickly, and he’s a bit disoriented.

“Yeah, absolutely! But don’t try to make something outta nothing. If you don’t feel it, you don’t feel it,” he shrugs.

“But he has a girlfriend,” Harry protests.

“Who, Eleanor? She’s a beard. It’s pretty obvious to anyone who isn’t a fan,” Niall informs him, “Although, I guess that was you up until a few hours ago,”

This...Harry is not going to deal with this right now. He has to hold a conversation with Louis before he fully processes this. It’s just that Louis is really, really attractive. Even the Harry who hated him couldn’t deny that.

“Okay, we really have to get going,” Niall urges, and they both head back to their seats. They get back just in time, Liam flashing them a disapproving look. They’ve already been informed that they would win, so Harry prepares to look surprised. He’s been a terrible actor, but it’s their first VMA, so at least the celebrating won’t be fake.

After they accept the award from Wiz Khalifa, of all people, an idea pops into Harry’s head. Hopefully, it’ll help smooth things over between him and their PR team. Harry takes the mic from Liam and the crowd goes silent. Liam and Niall glance at each other, worried, and Harry waves his hand at them in reassurance.

“I’d like to take this moment to, well first of all, thank my mother,” the audience laughs politely, “But second, I’d like to apologize for what I said earlier. The song we played is not about Louis, that was a joke. It’s actually about,” Harry curses himself for starting that sentence and fumbles to pull something out of his arse, “some guy who cut me off on the freeway,” The audience laughs more genuinely this time. Harry can come up with a real story later, but he thinks he’s successfully stopped people from thinking he hates Louis’ guts. Because he doesn’t...anymore, “Yeah, what a jerk. I’m sure most of you can relate. Anyway, thanks again!” The crowd cheers as they walk offstage, and Harry sighs in relief.

“Decent save, right there,” Liam acknowledges, “Good thinking. I’m sure management and all them are glad you did that,”

“Thanks, mate,”

“By the way, me and Niall were just talking, and we’re thinking of heading out to Rihanna’s afterparty. Z just texted me saying it’s ace,”

“Z?” Harry raises one eyebrow.

“Zayn, I mean. It’s a nickname, I guess,” Liam scratches the back of his head sheepishly.

“Cute,” Harry smirks, “But I think I’ll pass. I’m sure I’ll be in the papers tomorrow morning for all this, so I’d rather have them use pictures of me in a tailored suit onstage than ones of me plastered and stumbling on the streets,”

“Very sensible of you,” Liam approves, “Have a good night then! Cheers!” he salutes, and he and Niall walk towards the exit. Harry stays a few more minutes to listen to Taylor perform (They’ve “broken up” by now, but they still talk every once in a while.) before heading to the hotel, humming “Oh, What a Night” the whole way there.

# # #

The next morning, Harry gets to the coffee shop five minutes early, and Louis is already there with a table for two. Louis puts his hand up in greeting and smiles awfully wide for someone with a hangover. Harry sits down across from him.

“Mornin’,” Louis rasps, his voice giving him away.

“Figure you’d be late from how you sounded last night. How long were you out?” Harry asks.

“Til about half five, not too bad, I guess,” Harry chuckles, “How about you?”

“Oh, I went back to the hotel right after the show was over, fell asleep right away,” Harry admits.

“Lame,” Louis teases, “Where are you staying?”

“Sunset Marquis,”

“Wow, same here, actually. How much longer will you be there?”

“A few days. Starting tomorrow we have a few interviews, a few meetings. I’m sure the execs will have a lot to say to me,”

“They haven’t said anything already?” Louis raises his eyebrows incredulously.

“No, they have. I got a call on the way home. They weren’t as mad because of...what I said later on,” Harry explains.

“Ah, yes. I wanted to thank you for that. I don’t quite like to be known as someone so mean that they inspired an entire hate song,”

“No no, no need to thank me. I was just trying to clean up some of the mess I made, is all,” Harry reassures him, “It’s the very least I could do,”

“While we’re on the subject, is that song actually about me, or was that announcement just some stunt gone wrong?”

“Ummm...yeah, I guess it was about you,” Harry admits, “I wrote it after I uhhh, peed on you,” A laugh bubbles out of Louis, “But it means nothing, now. I don’t hate you, if that wasn’t clear. I hated who I thought you were. I didn’t actually know you at all. And I’m really sorry,”

“Trust me, you’re not the only person who hates Louis Tomlinson ™. I’ll bet you I hate him more than anybody. Sexist, homophobic bastard,” he mutters, “It’s hard not to believe what you read about someone when that’s all you know about them. That’s why the tabloids are so popular. And, I’ll admit, I called Niall after I read the 410 women thing like, ‘Is this for real?’. He told me about the whole womanizer image thing. But if I hadn’t known any better, I probably would’ve assumed you’d fuck any living breathing female. Because I had nothing better to go off of. So really, I can’t be mad at you because I could’ve done the same thing, so there’s not much of a need to apologize,” he smiles sincerely, “but I’ll still take the free teas, of course,” As if on cue, a barista comes around with two mugs and a metallic milk pot and puts them down, “Thanks, love,” She smirks at the both of them and walks away, “By the way, I don’t know how you take your coffee, so I asked for the milk and sugar on the side,”

“If I’m being honest, I’m not a huge fan of plain old coffee. I get those drinks with like, tons of chocolate and caramel and sugar,” he blushes, and Louis grins back at him in a way that really doesn’t help. Harry’s almost grateful he didn’t like Louis the first time he met him. If they had met drunk at a party with a clean slate, Harry’s afraid he would’ve flirted way too shamelessly. It’s just that Louis’ so beautiful it feels like his brain is full of exclamation points. He tries to remember what he was talking about, “Anyway, I wanted to thank you for being so cool about all this. You’re kind of unreal.”

“You flatter me, darling, but you’re not getting out of the free tea,” Louis reminds him.

“Oh, I know. I’d buy you tea anytime,” Harry freezes, hoping that didn’t sound too suggestive, because he honestly wasn’t trying to be. But judging from Louis’ raised eyebrows, it probably did.

“It’s a date, then,” Louis smirks, and Harry feels like he’s going to throw up. But in a good way.

“Uhhhh…” Harry tries to stop his brain from short-circuiting, “The drinks are probably getting cold,” he blurts out before taking a sip. He realizes he forgot to put sugar in and makes a face. Louis giggles and shakes his head before picking up his drink as well. God, Harry is so screwed.

They make small talk, share stories about recording songs, performances, seeing fans, awkward celebrity encounters. They have another drink, then two more, then three, and by then, they’re jittery and itching to do something else. Louis suggests going to the beach, so they stop back at the hotel to grab their swim trunks and towels and something to eat before they head out.

It’s sunny and hot outside, so they’re eager to get into the water. They swim around and play games like children, and Harry feels like he’s been friends with Louis his whole life, even when he’s not even sure if they’re friends at all. After an all-out splash war, the caffeine has worn off, and they decide to lay on the beach. Harry does not ogle Louis’ arse in those dark blue swim trunks. That would be wildly inappropriate.

They chat at first, but after Harry finishes a story from secondary school about a friend who collected roadkill, he notices that Louis isn’t responding.

“Louis?” he tries. He pokes him in the arm, “Lou?” Nothing. He sits up and moves back to get a closer look at his face. His eyes are closed and he’s breathing slowly. He snores quietly, and Harry smiles fondly. He considers letting him sleep, but if he doesn’t turn over soon, he’ll burn, “Lou!” Harry shakes his shoulder, and Louis’ eyelashes flutter as he opens his eyes. They widen, not expecting to see Harry’s face so close. Then his whole face softens into a small smile. Harry sighs. He knows he’s being obvious, but he can’t really help it, being a shit actor and all, and Louis doesn’t seem to mind all that much. The moment is interrupted by Harry’s phone vibrating. Louis coughs awkwardly. It’s a text from Liam.

_where hav u been al day???_

“I should answer this, sorry,” Harry tells Louis.

_I went out for coffee and then to the beach with Louis._

__

Liam responds within thirty seconds.

_ooooh r u guys good now???_

Harry grins.

_I think so._

He looks to Louis, who is now laying on his stomach. He can’t help but sneak another glance at his arse. Because he is human, and Louis’ bum is fantastic. Liam texts back.

_glad 2 hear it !!! anyway me n niall and possibly aiden and zayn r goin clubbin 2nite at project la u 2 should come along_

“It seems both our bands have decided to go clubbing together tonight and we were the last to be invited,” Harry comments. Louis gasps, feigning indignation.

“Unacceptable! I simply won’t do it! Won’t give them the satisfaction!” he cries dramatically.

“It’ll be fun though!” Harry tries to persuade him, “Come on, getting drunk is the best way to forget about a hangover!” Louis laughs.

“You’ve got a point there,” Louis allows, “Fine, I’ll come. But I kinda wanna take a nap first,”

“All right then, old man. Let’s head back to the hotel,” Louis smacks him playfully on the shoulder as he gets up to shake out his towel.

“You’re one to talk, Mr. I Went To Bed Right After the Show!” he protests. Harry’s face is starting to hurt from smiling so much.

When Harry and Louis get back to the hotel, they sleep for a few hours (In their own rooms, of course.) until Niall and Aiden come banging on their respective doors. They all leave for the club at around ten and make it back far too late.

And if Harry drunkenly flirts and dances with Louis the whole time, then so be it.

# # #

It really doesn’t take long after that. They all hang out while they’re still in L.A. in their spare time. Even though he’s always dreamed of going, Harry’s a little disappointed when NHL have to fly to Paris to start the European leg of the tour for their first album.

The two bands are together almost every night whenever they’re in the same city, and Harry and Louis are even more inseparable. If one of them has a few hours of free time while the other is busy, they’ll visit each other at work. Their handlers were reluctant to let this go on at first for security, confidentiality, and/or business reasons, but soon find that the one is funnier, more charming, happier, when the other is there, which is great for interviews. If those in charge find this phenomenon strange, they don’t comment on it.

One day in autumn, when both bands are in London, they are all called to a meeting. They walk in nervously, unsure of what will be said. That changes to relief and excitement when they are told they will be co-headlining a world tour starting in February. They try to keep their cool whilst in the boardroom, but as soon as they leave the room after they are dismissed, everyone is cheering and high fiving, Louis is spinning in Harry’s arms, and Harry is floating and trying not to kiss him.

Harry knows he must look like a schoolboy with a crush, and Louis gets extra handsy with him pretty fast. Aiden raises his eyebrows whenever Louis throws his arms around Harry. Zayn walks in on them cuddling in a hotel bed watching Netflix and blushes as if he just interrupted something intimate. Liam smirks when he notices Louis absentmindedly playing with Harry’s hair when they’re all sitting in a hotel lounge waiting for Zayn to finish getting ready.

Niall’s a bit more blunt about it. One day, before they all head out to go sightseeing in New York, Harry compliments Louis on his beanie and Niall groans, “Oh, why don’t you two just kiss already?!”

They Skype each other most days. It’s especially hard when they’re apart for Louis’ birthday, so they promise to exchange gifts when they see each other again at Harry’s.

The last time they see each other before the tour starts, Louis invites Harry over to his flat in London. Louis has been over Harry’s many times, but Louis hasn’t let Harry come over his until now. He claims it’s because it’s too messy, but Harry’s still a little suspicious.

Louis makes Harry dinner. It’s chicken, wrapped in parma ham, stuffed with mozarella with a side of homemade mash. Harry’s surprised with how delicious it is because he remembers Zayn claiming that Louis “couldn’t cook for shit”. He even lit a candle. No one can say Louis Tomlinson doesn’t know how to entertain.

After they finish eating, Harry begins to stand up and take his dish to the sink.

“Wait, Harry,” Louis stops him.

“What?”

“Sit back down. I want to tell you something,” Louis admits.

“Of course, anything,” Harry hopes at least his face looks calm, because his heart is thumping louder than the bass beat at a club.

“So, I don’t know if you know this, but that was the first meal I’ve ever cooked.”

“Really?” Harry asks, impressed. Louis nods, “It was amazing,” Louis blushes and looks down.

“Thanks,” Harry watches, sensing that there’s something more. After about ten seconds, Louis glances back up at Harry, who tries to give him a reassuring look. He doesn’t understand why Louis looks so nervous and shy. He’s usually so comfortable around Harry.

“You know,” Harry coaxes, “You really can tell me anything, I promise,”

“I know,” Louis looks up again, smiling.

“Like, I swear, to our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, may God smite me right now if you can’t,” Harry announces dramatically, throwing his hands up. He looks to the sky, waiting, before raising his eyebrows at Louis, “See?”

“You’re such a dork,” Louis shakes his head laughing.

“Anything,” Harry repeats solemnly, looking him straight in the eye. Louis smiles softly.

“Okay, yeah, you’re right,” Harry grins and nods. Louis takes a deep breath, “So...there’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a while now, and I didn’t want to start touring together without doing it first.” And Harry’s so totally sure what’s coming next, and the furniture in the flat knows what’s coming next, and the entire goddamn universe knows what’s coming next, and he’s pretty sure he’s actually vibrating with fear and heat and excitement and energy and he feels like he has to grip his seat to stay on this planet as Louis moves his chair over next to him.

“Just, stop me whenever you want to, okay?” Louis tells him, and Harry nods more forcefully than is entirely necessary, knowing he won’t take him up on that offer. And then Louis is leaning in, agonizingly slow, and Harry thinks he is probably dying. His brain is screaming _LOUIS_ over and over at him and it’s nearly impossible to stay still. Louis’ eyelashes flutter closed centimeters from Harry’s face, and he pauses, taking a shuddering breath.

And Harry breaks.

“Oh, fucking hell,” He mutters before grabbing the hair on the back of Louis’ head and pulling his lips the rest of the way. Louis sighs blissfully into his mouth and then breaks away, giggling.

“Haha, you couldn’t take it!” he teases before giving him a peck. Harry huffs petulantly, crossing his arms. Louis pouts back at him before scooting closer and hopping onto Harry’s lap, “It’s okay, Haz,” he leans to whisper in his ear, “I couldn’t take it either.” Harry groans and pulls Louis back in by the collar of his shirt. They’re insatiable now, only stopping to breathe. Sometimes not even then.

“Haz,” Louis breathes out, winded after a particularly long kiss, “You’re killing me here,” he pauses, then adds, “Not that I’m not enjoying it, of course. At least I could say I died happy.” Harry laughs, then bites his lip slyly before grabbing Louis’ arse. Louis’ jaw drops open, scandalized, and Harry worries that might’ve been too far. He opens his mouth to apologize, but then Louis smirks and grinds down into his lap. Harry raises his eyebrows. He wasn’t expecting things to go so far so fast, but he certainly isn’t complaining. He leans in for more.

“God,” Harry’s teeth graze Louis’ lip, “You drive me crazy, you know that?” He feels Louis smiling against his mouth, “Like, I’ve always felt so much about you. I couldn’t control myself, right from the beginning, even,” he trails his lips along Louis’ jaw, “I had to hate you, or else I wouldn’t have been able to keep myself from doing this,” he ducks down to kiss at Louis’ neck, “Why on earth didn’t we do this earlier?” he mumbles.

“The anticipation,” Louis gasps out, clearly sensitive in that area, Harry makes a mental note, “Wasn’t it just...intoxicating?” Louis runs a hand through Harry’s hair.

“But I like this a lot better,” Harry murmurs. Their next kiss is sweet, tender, before it builds into something more.

They go on for a little while longer, but then Harry stops them, if only for the sole reason that, if they continue, he may end up coming in his pants. Louis decides to get ready for bed while Harry insists on washing the dishes. After Harry is also done in the bathroom, he joins Louis in his bed. Harry rests his head on Louis’ shoulder while Louis answers emails on his laptop, and then they both watch _Grease_ together. Well, Louis watches _Grease_ , and Harry watches Louis’ reactions, which are much more entertaining and adorable than the movie. He knows Louis has seen it dozens of times, even starred in it at school, but he’s still absolutely enchanted by it. Harry kinda feels the same way about Louis. As the credits roll, Harry is humming “You’re The One That I Want” into Louis’ neck, relishing the way Louis’ breath catches when his lips brush the right spot. 

“I know this is probably going way too quickly but,” Louis begins suddenly, “how would you feel about maybe...moving in with me?” Louis asks, “Like, after the tour, I guess,” Harry lifts his head up and shakes it slowly, smiling wider than should be humanly possible.

“You’re incredible,” he remarks, then realizes he hasn’t quite answered, “Of course, of course, I...yes,” Louis kisses him, and Harry thinks his chest might explode.

 **  
** They sign their contract the next autumn. It feels like spring.


End file.
